


Take a Sad Song

by Katie (katieandsav)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Grief, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Singing, katie's shit, mentions of Meg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:26:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katieandsav/pseuds/Katie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had never seen Cas so broken before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take a Sad Song

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for tumblr user salt-and-burn-boys ^-^

The day had been uneventful, really; Dean was just stretched out on his bed, dozing, when Castiel appeared in the room with a sound like thunder.

Dean started and scrambled to his feet, automatically reaching for the gun on his bedside table, but relaxed when he saw it was just Cas. His relief didn’t last for very long, though.

Cas’ hair was even more ruffled than usual, as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and his trench coat was open, creased and wet with rain. But his eyes were the biggest sign that something was wrong.

Castiel’s normally calm, unreadable eyes were feverishly bright—a startling shade of cobalt—and filled with a dangerous, raw, _open_ panic. His pupils were dilated, and the whites were bloodshot.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas got out, his gravelly voice cracking on the single syllable.

Dean’s hand fell limply to his side. “Cas, man, what’s wrong?”

Cas’ lips parted for a moment like he was going to say something, but the only sound that left them was his ragged breathing. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then whispered, “She’s dead. Dead, Dean! Gone!” By the end, he was shouting.

Dean had never seen Cas like this before, and it filled him with an emotion he could only describe as fear. Even at his angriest, Castiel’s movements had been precise, planned. Now, the angel was wild and disoriented—an injured animal too scared to think straight.

“Whoa, whoa, take a deep breath, Cas,” Dean said evenly as he approached Castiel, holding his hands up passively. “Your coat’s wet—here, lemme help you get it off.”

Cas was stiff as a board, but he didn’t object as Dean carefully slid the trench coat off him, and then, after a moment of consideration, his suit jacket. The hunter draped the items of clothing over the back of a chair and retrieved his gown, wrapping it around Cas’ shoulders. The angel tugged it around himself, and in that moment, he looked so painfully human that Dean almost wondered if this wasn’t really Castiel.

But those blue eyes were unmistakable, so Dean guided Cas down to sit on the bed and knelt in front of him, hands on Castiel’s shoulders.

“Okay,” Dean said, voice soft as he studied Cas’ face. A drop of water from Castiel’s hair fell onto the angel’s face, trailing down his cheek like a tear. Dean wiped it away. “Who’s dead, Cas?”

“Meg.” The name fell out Cas’ mouth and into his lap, broken and mangled, as if it had been crushed. “Meg… died. Did you know?”

Dean stared at Cas, blinking in confusion. “She died a while back, Cas. Crowley killed her.”

A look of confused hurt crossed Cas’ face. “Why didn’t you tell me, Dean?”

“I didn’t… Sam and me, we didn’t think you’d care.” Guilt knotted up in Dean’s stomach, hot and heavy—a ball of melting lead. He expected anger—he expected to be met with the same fury that had filled Cas when Dean had told him he wanted to say yes to Michael.

But, instead, there was only a soft, “Oh.”

Dean slowly pulled himself up to sit beside the angel. “Hell, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you cared about her so much,” he said.

Cas didn’t look up at him. His posture was slumped, defeated. “I do. I… I did.” He pulled the gown tighter around himself, shutting his eyes. “Dean, when I was in that coma after taking on Sam’s damage… Each day, Meg would sit with me. She’d say, ‘So, Clarence, is today gonna be the day, then? The day you wake up?’” Castiel paused, inhaling shakily. “I wanted to tell her that I was trying to wake up, Dean. But I couldn’t. Every day, she would pull up a chair and prop her legs up on my bed—I could feel the weight of her feet across my ankles—and ask me if I was going to wake up. And every day, I would disappoint her.”

Dean only realised Cas was crying when the angel wiped his eyes. The hunter studied Castiel for a moment, then slowly moved closer to him and wrapped him in a tentative hug.

And something in Cas seemed to come undone.

He pressed his forehead against the inside of Dean’s shoulder, bunching up a handful of hunter’s shirt in his fist, as quiet sobs shook his body, and Dean found it astonishing that the powerful creature who’d been God could be reduced to this small, broken thing that shed tears over someone he once would’ve looked down upon.

It was the most heartbreaking thing Dean had ever seen.

He wanted to help, but the realisation that there was nothing he could do to alleviate Cas’ grief hit him like a ton of bricks. So, he did the only thing he could think of, and began to sing.

“ _Hey, Jude, don't make it bad._  
 _Take a sad song and make it better._  
 _Remember to let her into your heart,_  
 _Then you can start to make it better._  
  
 _Hey, Jude, don't be afraid._  
 _You were made to go out and get her._  
 _The minute you let her under your skin,_  
 _Then you begin to make it better._  
  
 _And anytime you feel the pain, hey, Jude, refrain,_  
 _Don't carry the world upon your shoulders._  
 _For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool_  
 _By making his world a little colder._  
  
 _Hey, Jude, don't let me down._  
 _You have found her, now go and get her._  
 _Remember to let her into your heart,_  
 _Then you can start to make it better._  
  
 _So let it out and let it in, hey, Jude, begin,_  
 _You’re waiting for someone to perform with._  
 _And don't you know that it's just you, Hey, Jude, you'll do,_  
 _The movement you need is on your shoulder._  
  
 _Hey, Jude, don't make it bad._  
 _Take a sad song and make it better._  
 _Remember to let her under your skin,_  
 _Then you'll begin to make it_  
 _Better, better, better, better, better, better, oh..._ ”

The words were soft, leaving Dean’s lips at a volume barely above a murmur, but by the time the song was over, Cas was quiet and still.

“That… doesn’t seem like your usual taste in music, Dean,” Castiel mumbled into Dean’s shirt after a few moments.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas tighter, pulling him closer. “When I was a kid, my mom used to sing it to me as a lullaby,” he explained quietly.

“It’s a nice song.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Dean replied, pressing a kiss into Castiel’s damp mass of dark hair.


End file.
